1

Following the implant surgery, the ten recruits reconvened in the boardroom they had used earlier. They gathered around the blue glass table with tablets, stat sheets, and paper plates. A buffet of different foods covered the center of the table: roasted chicken and potatoes, baked pasta, nachos, Indian and Chinese food, hamburgers and fries. The DNC had catered the food, taking a pass on the cafeteria’s offerings.

“Hey, Brett, have you tried this Indian food?” Janna asked her fellow nurse. “It is incredible.”

Through his full mouth, Brett mumbled his agreement.

“Yeah. I’m saying I haven’t eaten food like this in a while,” Zack said, glancing at Damon, “but then I’ve tasted better, you know what I’m saying?”

Janna watched Zack shove food into his mouth. “Well, you pound back the stuff like there’s no tomorrow,” she said casually.

Zack grinned. “I’d rather be eating something else”—his grin widened—“but, uh, right now, I’m thinking food.”

She rolled her eyes.

Damon tapped a fork on his glass, producing a clinking sound. “It’s twelve-thirty and we don’t have much time, so Harper, Miguel, can you start while the kids eat?”

At the head of the table, Harper glanced at Miguel. “Once we arrive on Epiphany,” she started, “menu screens will appear in your field of vision. You can toggle these screens off with just a thought like a…” Harper hesitated, unsure how to finish.

“Like a determination, a force of your will,” Miguel interjected.

“Right,” Harper said, “and among those interfaces are your main settings, which brings us to the first point.” She looked around the table. “Because they designed Epiphany as a family attraction, Cloud Nine wanted customers to be able to contact each other anywhere in the realms. So they added a telepathy function. As a result, while we’re on Epiphany, we can communicate telepathically.”

The team stopped eating.

“You mean communicate with our minds, right?” Angie asked.

“Yes,” Harper replied. There was a murmur among the recruits. Harper went on, saying, “Next, we’ve consulted with you about your race, class, and point assignments, and here are the designations.” Miguel followed Harper as she walked to the Smart Window and tapped on it. The member’s stats appeared.

Ethan laughed. “I have no idea what any of those stats mean.”

Harper nodded. “Miguel and I will oversee that, but FYI, strength is what it sounds like. Constitution is your health. Endurance affects your stamina. Dexterity is your speed and agility. Intelligence influences your MP limit and your spell potency. Wisdom affects your mana point regeneration, or MPR, but it also represents your willpower.” She paused. “We’ve allocated your twenty extra stat points into specific stat categories. They are in italics.”

The recruits were losing interest, focusing more on the food than the would-be mages at the head of the table.

Harper sighed. “Your HP and MP totals are percentages of your other stat totals. Your hit points are one hundred and fifty percent of your constitution stat. Your HP regen rate, or HPR, is two percent of the same stat. As you level up, all your stats will increase.” Harper glanced at her fellow mage. “Miguel will discuss mana points.”

He stepped forward. “Mana is a universal force that enables you to cast spells. Your mana totals and regen rates are calculated from your intelligence and wisdom stats.” He looked around the table. “Until you get accustomed to the system, trust our advice.”

Harper continued, “The race selections will influence your stats and physical shape. They are game interpretations of who you are. For instance, the humans will have bigger eyes and longer legs, but…” She surveyed the room. “Angie, you’ll still have that long, curly hair.” She sighed. “Brett, you’ll keep those high cheekbones.” Only Damon and Miguel seemed to be paying attention now. She looked over at Miguel for support.

He cleared his throat loudly. “Your class selection will determine your weapons, armor and spells. The orcs will be equipped with pink skirts and will have watermelon catapults for weapons.”

Harper stifled a laugh.

The team members gaped at them. Some were grinning.

“Yeah, so you better listen up,” Harper scolded, “because we can make that happen!” Miguel started chuckling. Harper exhaled and looked at Damon. “That’s it for now.”

Damon stood. “One more thing: we’ll communicate by video with the Cloud Nine control team through the landing zone only. They will be constantly monitoring that feed.” He surveyed the recruits. “Okay, we have about an hour remaining. Let’s meet in the transfer room at one forty-five.”

2

Harper and Miguel walked along the long corridor back to their rooms. Cloud Nine had given the recruits the entire ninth floor, which consisted of fifty-five lodging rooms. With only ten recruits, the company spaced out the room assignments. Harper glanced at Miguel and squeezed his hand. “Thanks for your help back there.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Pink skirts, eh?” Harper teased.

Miguel laughed, and his face turned red. “You’re forgetting the watermelon catapults.”

She slowed and turned to him. “Did you ever think we’d be in charge of a military team?”

He shrugged. “We’re not. Damon is.”

Harper’s found his hand again, and they stopped. She shook her head. “Oh, no, no, no, my young friend. Damon has deferred that responsibility to you and me.” He gaped at her, speechless. “Listen, Miguel, we’re going into a very dangerous situation,” she said. “He’ll command the grunts, but the coordination of the group and strategy will fall to us.”

Her fingers skimmed over the inside of his palm, and Miguel felt traitorous beads of sweat rise from his pores. “Harper, do you think you’re up for that?”

She laughed. “I signed up like everyone else,” she replied, not answering his question. They started walking again. “How about you?” she asked.

He considered it for a moment. “I’m going to approach it like any other game, I suppose.”

She glanced at him, perplexed by his answer. “Yeah, one where you could actually die,” she said soberly.

“Yes, one where we can die.”

3

In his small gray room, Damon sat at the old computer. He was studying the stats and images of the Valhallan orcs. They were god-awful ugly. To him, they looked like a cross between a human and a pig. But they were enormous, brimming with muscle, and he liked their plate armor, too. It looked both flexible and strong. He heard a knock at his door, got up, and opened it.

Angie stood in the doorway, wearing a long red dress. Being a soldier, Angie was very muscular, but she was still endowed with gorgeous curves. Seeing that she had his attention, Angie performed a little wiggle.

He smiled at her. “You packed some extra clothes?”

She nodded seductively. “Hey soldier, how about one last bump in the hay before we get shipped off to Super Mario World?”

“Sure. You have twenty new holes I can use,” he teased, nodding at her implants.

She lowered her head and rolled her eyes at him. “Very funny, Romeo.”

“Please, come in,” he said. He watched Angie slip off her shoes, close the door, and saunter by him. As she passed, he could smell her hair. It smelled of cinnamon and reminded him of the nights they would stay up talking well into the morning. She would sip her cinnamon tea while he drank black coffee. It had taken a lot of nights, but she’d eventually opened up to him. She’d initially been cautious, given Damon’s history, but he persevered. Still, she wasn’t ready to commit to him long-term. This was his chance. They would find the idiot CEO and he would persuade her then.

She looked at him, her eyes glistening. “Come on, we have little time,” she said, tugging at his shirt. He pulled his shirt off, showing off his new implants. She touched one. “Do they hurt?”

“Not a bit.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“The wonders of science, Angie,” he said with a playful smile. Her hands unbuckled his belt. Damon watched her and felt the body heat radiating from her light cocoa skin. He kissed her and savored her familiar, slightly salty taste.

She nudged him away and motioned to the bed, gazing at him with a wry smile. “Is that thing gonna hold the two of us?”

He uttered a small laugh. “I guess we’ll find out. We’ll be lucky if it doesn’t squeak.”

She giggled. They spent the next twenty minutes reconnecting to each other, and the bed did, indeed, squeak. Afterward, Angie whispered into his ear, “After this mission, let’s build our home. Be together.”

Damon smiled up at her. “I love you, Angel.” She told him that she loved him too. Everything is falling into place, he thought. It was going to be perfect. Cloud Nine was going to set them up for life. All they had to do was complete this one mission.

4

Walker and the DNC delegation arrived thirty minutes early to the basement-level transfer room. He wanted to make sure everything was arranged perfectly. The room had been retrofitted to allow for the large-scale transfer. They’d linked ten pods and lined them up in two rows of five. A TV screen showing the Epiphany16 landing zone was positioned below the white concrete ceiling. Beside the screen were two small speakers. Five workers wearing white lab coats stood by the pods silently. Walker had told the crew he wanted the room spotless, and they did not disappoint.

Walker gazed through a section of smoked glass at the technicians in the main control room. He had informed the techs of all the details, including the back-up team waiting on the tenth floor. If a recruit pulled out at the last minute, it would be a quick switch to their replacement.

Walker peered over his shoulder at Carolyn Lindholm. The damn woman had returned from lunch with her delegation, insisting they be included. Since then, the delegation had followed him around like a needy lap dog. Bloody Americans, Walker thought. “Ms. Wilson,” he said, smiling fraudulently, “would you and your esteemed guests like to observe the transfer from the control room?” He gestured toward the smoked glass. “You can watch everything from the seats behind the panel. Take a load off, as they say?”

Carolyn surveyed Walker suspiciously, then consulted with her colleagues. There were four of them, one of whom was morbidly obese.

Yes, take a load off, by all means! Walker thought. Before your fat friend breaks his ankles, my dear lady.

She turned back to him. “Yes, that would be nice. We’d probably get in the way, anyway.”

My dear lady, you already have, Walker thought coldly. He escorted them to the control room, which was dimly lit but warmer than the cold transfer room. At the front of the room, three people sat at a control panel full of buttons and levers. Fastened to the wall above them were two cameras pointed at the technicians. Another monitor hung from the ceiling, displaying the landing zone. Behind the control panel were a dozen theater-type seats. Walker gestured toward the seats. “There you are. You can view all the festivities and the inner workings from here. Much more comfortable than the concrete floor. Don’t you agree?”

The delegation concurred and sat behind the panel.

Walker escaped back to the transfer room just in time to greet Harper, Miguel, Ethan, and Jordan. “Welcome, welcome, welcome, my friends,” the operations director exclaimed. “Please make yourselves comfortable.”

Harper glanced around the room, then looked at Miguel. The room was barren except for the ten pods. He shrugged. “I suppose we can sit on the end of the pods,” he whispered.

They walked to the pods, and the brothers followed. “What’s with the lab-monkeys, Ethan?” Jordan whispered, gesturing to the crew. “They haven’t moved an inch.” Ethan nodded. “Yeah, that’s weird.”

Walker pranced over to the lab workers and spoke with them. They dispersed and approached the team members. A familiar voice sang from the doorway, “Ground control to Major fucking Tom, man.” Harper turned to see Zack, hands on his hips, fascinated by the room despite its modest arrangement. Brett, Janna, and Emma waited behind him. Harper leaned over to Miguel’s pod. “Doesn’t take much to impress him,” she whispered.

He chuckled.

Damon and Angie walked in next, and Walker assembled the ten recruits in front of the pods. “My dear friends, you have been given a task of great import,” he said, raising his arms ceremoniously. “But your mission is not without peril. You must rely on each other as a team to survive. All the while, we will be here to attend to your every need.” He pointed at the TV screen hanging from the ceiling. “Our control team will monitor the landing zone on a twenty-four-hour basis. From the landing zone, you will access the portal room. That is where your adventure begins and our communications end. I hope you will find Mr. Harris soon. Do you have questions?”

The group was silent.

“Very well, let’s remain on schedule and get you hooked up. As you will need to remove your clothes, I would ask that the four ladies proceed to the back row.” Walker laughed sarcastically. “I know how you men like to gawk at members of the female persuasion.” He studied the six men. “Mr. Williams, you strike me as a man of honor, so you may join the ladies in the back row. The rest of the men, in the front. Now, drop your clothing to the floor and lay on the pods.”

The recruits glanced at each other uncomfortably. No one moved.

Walker waited, relishing the members’ awkwardness. Finally, Zack broke the ice. “Last one in the pool is a dirty rotten egg,” he said as he stripped. The other members slowly began undressing. In the left corner of the room, Damon reached for Angie as they laid on the pods. She took his hand, glanced at him, and smiled. His eyes were fixed straight up at the ceiling.

One of the lab-monkeys approached Damon. “Hi, I’m Shelley. How are you today?” she asked as she inserted pins into his IIDs. He reciprocated the greeting but felt ridiculous doing it. To his left, Harper shuddered. “Damn, it’s cold in here,” she whispered.

In the front row, most of the men lay in their pods except for one straggler, Brett. The big male nurse slowly and meticulously removed his clothing. As he settled onto his pod, he craned his head just enough to see the women behind him. Having had a good look at Harper and Angie, he brought his gaze back and found Zack staring at him.

“You asshole,” Zack whispered.

Brett grinned and stared at the ceiling.

“I apologize for the frigid temperature, my friends,” Walker stated loudly, “and for your embarrassment, but you will be clothed upon your arrival at the landing zone.” His heels clicked across the concrete floor. “Now, if you may excuse me, I will converse with you from the control room.” Walker and the lab-monkeys quickly exited the room, leaving the team recruits alone in the room.

Miguel sat up. “What the hell?” he asked. Walker’s staticky and distorted voice rang through the speakers. “Please lay down, Mr. Lopez. Everything is in order. Ladies and gentlemen, your vitals are within standard limits and you are ready for departure. If anyone doesn’t feel prepared, please raise your hand.”

A long silence hung in the air. No one raised their hand.

“Very well, my friends, I wish you good luck and godspeed. Your adventure begins in five... four...”

Angie looked up at the white ceiling. This is it, she thought.

“… three… two… one.”

5

Zack heard a deafening buzzing noise that grew higher in pitch. A worried murmur rose among the recruits. The sound grew louder and higher still, producing an accelerating EEEEEEEEE feedback loop. He instinctively reached up to cover his ears, then felt his body lose its cohesion. He looked down and gasped. His body wavered between translucency and opaqueness. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed.

Faintly, he could hear Walker’s panicked voice ringing through the speakers. “… ave to lie still, Zack! Lower your…”

He tried to put his arms down, but he felt like he was in a dream state. His movements were suddenly very slow. Zack watched as his arms fluctuated between solid and transparent. In that span, he saw his arteries, organs, and skeleton. Finally, his arms touched the pod again. He peered to his right to see if anyone else was experiencing problems.

The recruits were gone.

Why am I still here? he wondered miserably. White-hot pain shot through his left arm. He looked down and couldn’t see his body anymore. I’ve become invisible, he marveled. Then he saw his left forearm. It was the only part of his body he could still see.

That, and the blood. Lots of blood.

As the feedback intensified and the pain grew worse, Zack closed his eyes.